


Curiosity

by StarliteNights



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Awkward Delivery, Awkwardness, Bottom Daryl Dixon, Caught, Crack, Curiosity, Dildos, Gay Daryl Dixon, Lube, M/M, Masturbation, Other, POV Daryl Dixon, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, This is why you don't do it in the living room, Vibrator, cum, jerking off, possibly gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 16:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20195137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarliteNights/pseuds/StarliteNights
Summary: He's not gay. No, really he's not! He's just a little curious.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A lovely friend of mine has introduced me to the wonders of Bad Dragon, a fantasy dildo making company of WOW DID NOT KNOW THAT WAS A THING. And thus a story was born.
> 
> I wrote this late at night, and uhhh, enjoy?

The shack he calls home is run-down but livable. The cushions of the couch are sunk in, the carpet stained, there's a patch of paint peeling on the far wall and the coffee table is worn. There's rings of white from hot mugs all over it and it's scratched to shit. Old hunting magazines hang precariously on the corner where he pushed them out of the way earlier, a cold bottle of beer sits sweating next to them.

He reaches out and takes a swig, eyeing the package that lays in the middle. It's just a brown box, plain and unassuming, except for the fact that he thinks he knows what it is. It's rectangle in shape, a little shorter than his forearm. It's not particularly heavy, but whatever's inside shifts around when handled. 

The delivery guy that had knocked at his screen door this morning threw him for a bit of a loop. He hadn't remembered ordering anything in particular. 

Until he had. 

It was just a stupid drunken thought. Which was the only time he really allowed himself to think about such things but regardless, he had been drunk. Drunk Daryl had thought it was the best idea ever. If he just got it over with, if he knew what it was actually like, he wouldn't want it. Right? So a quick trip on the internet, a PayPal account connected to his bank card and bam. Mission accomplished. Just a week or two to wait and he'd have this whole thing dealt with. No more thoughts, dreams or furious masturbation sessions he refused to acknowledge. 

So when he figured out what it was the delivery guy was getting him to sign for, he had promptly turned into a tomato. He tried to hide it behind his bangs and hoped the younger man hadn't seen. 

Glenn, as his name tag read, hadn't seemed to notice his sudden realization. He had however seemed a little weirded out when he tried his damnedest to get the exchange over with as soon as possible. Mainly without the delivery guy realizing what he was holding. 

Silicone sculpture. Personal lubricant. As if calling it a sculpture would stop people from figuring it out. Fucksakes.

The declaration of contents sticker on the front of the box mocks him from the coffee table. For once he's grateful Merle managed to get himself locked up. He'd never let him live this down. Drunk people shouldn't have access to the internet.

He finishes off his beer and thinks about tossing the damn thing straight into the garbage. But what if someone sees? Which is a stupid thought, it's just a brown box. Even if the damn garbage bag broke open in the middle of the street nobody would figure it out. 

He eyes the box before shaking his head with a scoff and making his way into the kitchen. He goes to grab another beer when a bottle of whiskey on the countertop catches his eye. Damn stuff got him into this problem, chances are it won't get him out of it either. Still, he picks it up and tips it back. It burns on the way down but he's used to it. 

Eventually he ends up back in the living room, the bottle tucked into his side. The more he drinks the more he thinks about it. Does it hurt? There wouldn't be so many gay guys if it hurt right? Not that he's gay. Cause he's not, Merle would kill him if he was. Which ain't the only reason he's not. Gay that is. He's not a faggot. He's just, curious.

What's it feel like? If it doesn't hurt, it still can't feel good, right? It probably just feels weird, something that big.

He props the whiskey down by his foot after a hefty swallow. 

Then he's leaning forward and grabbing the box, tearing the tape off and it's open before he even figures out what he's doing. There's purple tissue paper that he lets fall to the floor, a eight ounce bottle of lube and a black silk bag at the bottom. 

Shit. 

He lays the lube on the table and picks the silk bag up in slightly shaky hands. It's soft and smooth and what lies beneath feels distinctly phallic. 

Double shit.

The first thing he thinks when he finally builds up the nerve to take it out, is it's pink. Not a soft pink or a pastel pink, but a in your face candy pink. The thing is nearly fluorescent. It's got a wicked curve with overlapping platelets, like large scales on the underside and a pointed head. The base is flared and designed like a suction cup. 

Fucking hell. What kinda freaky shit is his drunk self into? 

This probably isn't a good idea. What happens if it does hurt? What if it gets stuck? His dick doesn't seem to care much. He can already feel the swell starting behind his zipper.

He licks his lips and weighs the silicone in his hand. It flexes in his palm as he pushes his thumb into the centre of the length. It's solid but with a slightly squishy give. It's smooth and a little cold at first but it warms in his grasp. 

He leaves it on the couch next to him and flicks open his belt. Pulls his shirt over his head and shimmies his jeans down his legs and kicks it off at his feet. Is he really gonna do this? 

He reaches forward for the lube. The bright pink phallus rolls into his thigh as he settles back into the couch. He palms at his harden length and twists off the black cap of the bottle, pulls off the seal underneath and twists it back on. It's cold as he drizzles it over his flushed cock making him hiss between his teeth. It's good though. It warms quick as he slicks it over his length and groans. 

He works himself for a while, eyeing the toy next to him. When he starts to get too close he backs off and sighs, gripping himself by the base. 

He's tried a finger before. Once. Maybe twice and maybe two, but nothing that big. 

He shifts and lays back, his head on the arm rest. It's easy to slick up his fingers and drop his hand down between his legs. Past his throbbing cock and into the crack of his ass. He swirls his middle finger at his entrance and pushes just past the tight ring of muscle. It's weird. Same as it was the first few times. It's after, once he's worked it deeper, worked another finger in next to it that it gets a little better. There's the feeling of being stretched, of being full. 

He's never pushed for three before, but if he's thinking about even attempting taking that thing, he's gotta work himself open, right? Like that's a thing your supposed to do? You can't just shove big ass things up your ass without some kinda preparation, or he's pretty sure you can't. 

The third one burns the tiniest bit even with added lube. The candy pink fantasy cock next to him is about six inches in length. It starts off a pointed head but it gets thicker with each ridge on the way down. At the flared bottom it's as thick as the base of his own dick or more.

He works his fingers deeper and try's to spread them wider. 

At some point he slips them out and picks up the offending object. He's pushed as much lube as he can into himself and still he slicks the toy. He spreads his legs wide, one up against the back of the couch the other braced on the edge of the coffee table next to him. His cocks only half hard, but dammit he's gotten this far, he's damn well doing this. 

The pointed tip slides past without much trouble. It's smooth and it goes in almost too quick, causing the first ridge to push up behind it. It burns a little but it's not so bad. It's like adding an extra finger. He lets out a breathe he didn't realize he was holding and inches it in a little further. Taking the first ridge isn't so hard. It stretches him but it's, good? 

He pushes it further, slowly rocking it into himself bit by bit. It's a lot. It's way more then a few fingers and it's almost too much. Each ridge takes a second to force past, but he makes it down halfway before hitting something that makes him see stars. 

He jolts and his cock twitches against his stomach, hardening by the second. He rocks down against the silicone experimentally. The point hits that spot again and fuck it's good. His other hand grasps at his length, palm twisting up around the head and down again. He's rocking down onto the thick length inside him, pushing and working it slowly deeper. 

It's good. It's so fucking good. 

He gets lost in the pulsing heat of pleasure and rides it. Pushing back and thrusting forward into his fist. Until the hand holding the flared base starts to cramp and he whines in frustration, head rolling back into the armrest. 

"Fuckin' hell."

He pulls the toy out ridge by ridge and that in itself leaves him groaning. He sends the magazines flying with a shove and smacks it base first onto the end of the coffee table. It stands up right listing to one side. He grabs the lube slicks it up and straddles it. One hand guilds it back into him, the other white knuckle grips the edge of the table. 

"Aaah fuck."

He works it back into him. Slowly sinking down onto the last ridge, bare ass flush with the table beneath him. His cock is flushed and dripping, bobbing straight out in front of him, precum leaking onto the floor below. He lifts himself up and sinks back down again. 

He ends up with both hands braced on the table behind him, back bowed and head thrown back. He plunges himself down on it over and over, felling each ridge grind over his insides. His legs are shaking with the force of an oncoming orgasm and he rides it fast and hard. Bounces on the silicone inside him, the coffee table creaking beneath his weight. He can feel it, with each burst of pleasure up his spine. He rides faster and harder and he's definitely glad Merle's not anywhere near home cause he's practically sobbing. 

There's something perversely erotic about doing this out here in the middle of the living room. Sure the windows covered by cheap plain curtains, and even if they weren't the house is out on its own. Just an empty dirt road that eventually leads to the main road to head into town. Nobody comes out this way cause there's nothing to come out here for. He's lucky the delivery guy even found it in the first place. 

There's no real risk of getting caught, but the thought that there could be, is surprisingly what finishes him off. 

He cums with an erratic pump of his hips. Watches his cock bounce in front of him and pulse pearly white all over the place. A shot up his chest, one off to the side and dripping spots across his thighs. He drops down, unable to hold himself up. The toy still inside him grinding deep with a roll of his hips, leaving him breathless. He rocks on it a moment, whining high and needy. 

It's through the post-orgasm haze he hears it, his breath catching in his throat. 

There's a creek from the floor boards.

Mild confusion morphs to absolute horror as he turns towards the doorway and his eyes meet Merle's. 

Merle himself is speechless. Eyes wide and mouth open. He looks down at Daryl's cum covered body and still half hard cock. Looks back up to his face. Turns to look down the hall and back at him again. "Tha' fuck ya' doin?!"

Yeah. Drunk Daryl's not allowed on the internet anymore.


	2. Twice shy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crack-ish sequel nobody asked for but your getting anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the comments, you’ve inspired me to write whatever the hell this is. Enjoy!

Once is a mistake.  _ Twice?  _

There’s a knock at the door and he already knows what it is and god he doesn’t even want to answer the damn thing. If he just pretends it doesn’t exist, it’ll go away.

“Ya gone deaf boy? Someone’s at the door dipshit.”

_ No, please no anything but this. _

“I got it-, leave it Merle I’ll get the goddamn door-.”

_ Too late. _

It’s the Chinese kid again, or at-least he thinks he’s Chinese, hell if he knows for sure. What was his name? Dean? No, it was a G. Fucking Gerald? Glenn! That was the kids name. 

“I got a package for Daryl Dixon?”

_ Gods never answered his prayers before but he’s really hoping for a heart attack or something right now.  _

“Uh, Yeah. Dar’?”

Things are rough enough between the two of them right now, he doesn’t need this making things worse.

_ Didn’t stop you from placing the fucking order in the first place did it? _

It was stupid. He just wanted to see what freak show website he’d bought the  _ thing _ from. That was it. Just a quick  _ ‘wow look at that, I’m a fucking freak HAHAHA’ _ and move the hell on. 

But, there was, well there was this sale, see? It’s not his fault! It was cheap (compared to how much he’d spent on the site last time) and they give you points when you buy stuff and he had points from the last purchase, and it would be a waste of fucking money if he didn’t use em, right? So it was already on sale and then with the points he pretty much only paid shipping which wasn’t too bad, right? He’s not weird, he’s practical.

Merle doesn’t look at him as he turns and heads back to the kitchen and  _ goddammit _ things were just starting to get back to normal. He’s pretty sure he convinced Merle he was just on a bad trip, and it wasn’t his! Had this girl over, okay and she had the thing and she left it and-. 

“Hey? Daryl, right?”

_ He’s gonna hang himself in the backyard. That’s it. He can’t buy shit online if he’s dead. _

He grunts in response and shuffles over to the front screen door. 

Glenn’s in his work uniform, delivery truck idling behind him on the dirt road. The potholes must be terrible on the poor suspension.  _ Lucky he ain’t blown a tire and all for a-. _

“Just need you to sign here.”

“Y-yeah.” God he’s fucking blushing again. Dudes gonna think he’s a weirdo, but it’s fine cause this is the last time he’s gonna see him. He’s getting rid of the fucking internet and Merle can bitch about it all he wants. That’s the problem. The  _ internet _ . 

_ Totally. _

He signs on the dotted line and Glenn’s handing over the package, smaller than the last, just a little square box that he can hold in one hand.

It didn’t come with batteries, right? Fucking hell what if it did? What if it started going off in the truck? That’s it. Never again, fuck he’s never living any of this down and Merle’s gonna ask what it is and what’s he supposed to say? Why the hell didn’t he think ahead? Sure, it had been pretty late at night and maybe he had been a little sleep deprived? 

“There you go, okay then, uh, have a nice day Mr. Dixon!” Glenn gives a cheerful smile and trots down off their porch and Daryl turns and makes a beeline for his room.

He almost makes it too.

“What’chu get?” Merle’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed and the look on his face, it’s not disappointed or disgusted but some strange mix of the two.

“Nothing.”

_ Well that was fucking stupid. _

“Nothing.” Merle sucks his teeth loudly and looks down at the small box held in his death grip of a hand. “You ordered what? A box o’ air?” 

“It’s-, uh it’s a hunting thing. Piece for my ‘bow.”

“For yer’ bow?” 

“Yup.”

“Mmhmm.” Merle pushes himself out from the wall with a grunt and turns to head back into the kitchen.

_ Thank god. He’s safe. _

“Well I’m glad you decided to downsize. Not sure how yer’ poor bow was handling that other piece.”

_ Jesus fucking Christ. _

“And I don’t wanna see nothing! And I sure as hell don’t wanna hear nothing either!”

He’s pretty sure Merle mutters something about ‘my faggot Lil’ brotha’ but he’s not gonna argue anything. He’s just gonna throw this shit to the back of his closet with the other thing and forget about it.

  
  


— —

  
  


He’s had trouble sleeping pretty much his entire life. It wasn’t safe half of the time growing up and he had to keep one eye open, and Merle snores loud enough to wake the dead, so. He’s kind of used to waking up in the middle of the night or at the ass crack of dawn and not being able to get back to sleep. It’s relatively normal for him.

Just, sometimes he gets restless. Normally yeah, he can crank one out and either doze off, or chill out or say fuck it and get up for the day, but. See, sometimes,  _ sometimes _ he gets a little  _ itch _ that he just can’t  _ scratch _ . Sure, it’s been a hell of a lot easier now that he’s got the-, not that he uses it or anything. Nope. Just him and his hand and absolutely nothing even remotely gay. 

Maybe just a finger. 

Just one.

But now he’s got that other  _ thing _ . The thing he tossed into his closet about a week ago without even opening it and it’s, well, it’s kind of been taunting him. 

He knows what it is but he's wary. He’s not afraid. He’s not afraid of anything, just, it’s better to be cautious than sorry later, right? Yeah.

So.

_ About that itch.  _

Cause it’s fine, he jerked one out before he went to bed all quiet like because him and Merle share a wall between their rooms and it was fine. Itch scratched. 

_ Except _ . 

_ He’s really fucking horny.  _

Like, woke up humping his bed horny and normally he’d be worried about Merle hearing the soft squeak of his bed springs but he’s a little busy chasing that high.

It’s good, rocking his hips down in a hard roll that makes his bed squeal but he’s not some teenager that can pump out three loads a day. He’s not old, sure as hell doesn’t have any trouble getting it up but sometimes he’s gotta work a little harder for a second round in one day. 

Which is fine, that’s life and it’s not like he has somebody to perform for or anything. It’s just him and what makes him feel good. 

But he’s just not getting there. 

He pushes a little harder a little faster, feels the way the bedsheet rasps against his straining cock and almost there-,  _ gone _ .  _ Dammit _ . It’s borderline  _ torture _ . Try’s rolling over, taking himself in hand and jerking fast, get it over with and done.

It’s maddening. Getting up to the edge of release just to not find it. Over and over and he just wants to cum.

So, fine.  _ Time to scratch another itch. _

It’s easy to slide out of bed and to his feet with a soft squeak of protest from his poor old bed. Makes his way over to his closet, cock rock hard and jutting out in front of him. It’s immature, sure, but it’s kind of funny watching it bob up and down as he walks.

_ No fucking wonder he’s single.  _

He’s reaching in around the edge of his closet door where he likes to stash certain things, when his knuckles brush up against the box and well. He did buy the fucking thing. By all means he shouldn’t let it just sit there. What was the point for buying it if he’s not gonna use the damn thing?

So he grabs the box and snags his pocket knife from the bedside table and slices the tape that holds it shut. It’s pretty much the same packaging as last time which makes sense because it’s from the same place. There’s packing paper in some bright colour and then a black silk bag with a drawstring sealing it shut. 

It’s smaller, like a little coin purse. There’s a magazine at the bottom of the box which showcases the company’s other products and a sheet of paper that shows his order and another with instructions and stuff for the, well, for the vibrator.

Which is  _ pink _ .

_ Because apparently he’s got a thing for the colour pink. _

It’s a dark rosy pink and metallic looking when he rolls it out into his hand. A little vibe that unscrews seamlessly so he can shove a battery inside. Thank god they were included but in a separate little package. He screws it shut and kicks the box and all of its other shit to the floor. 

He’ll get it in the morning. 

There are two buttons at the flat bottom, one to turn it on and off and the other for it’s ‘seven powerful settings for his pleasure’. Yippee. There’s three different speed settings and four ‘patterns’ whatever the hell that means. 

All he cares about right now is cumming and going back to bed for at least another hour if he can manage it.

He hits the ‘on’ button and nothing really happens so he pushes the other button and it vibrates to life. It’s quiet and kind of soft? It’s just a light vibration that makes his fingers tingle from where they hold it at the base. 

It doesn't really look like it’s vibrating, but it’s also dark and he’s not sure what he expected. It’s not like the little thing would be designed to jump out of his hand and vibrate a hole in his floor or something. 

It's not as intimidating as he thought it would be. 

He tests it against the palm of his other hand. It sends that same tingling feeling through his hand and so the next logical step is to try it on his poor weeping cock. Cause if it feels good here, then it’s gotta feel great there.

Oh.

_ Oh yes. _

He taps it against the base of his cock first and then glides it up and around the head. It fills his pulsing need with that sweet sensation, pleasure burning in his core. He pins his leaking cock to his lower stomach with the vibe right under the head, right on his sweet spot and it’s fucking  _ great _ . 

Which makes him curious. Cause if this is good, then the next six settings must be too right?

The next speed is a little harder, a tiny bit loader too, and the third even more so. He’s not a fan of the slow pulse of the first ‘pattern’ he’s too worked up for it. The second is kind of disorienting with its stop and go that feels out of place. The third starts as a hard throb that rolls to an easy vibration like the first speed and then back again in an endless loop. 

He stays on that one for a bit. Rolling his hips up to try and meet it and when that doesn’t work out the best he settles for rolling over onto his knees and pinning it to his bed. Holding it down with two fingers and humping into it works for a minute and then gets mildly frustrating when he keeps fucking up. 

So it’s back on his back, pillow shoved under his head to prop him up a little. He holds the vibe aligned with his length by wrapping a hand both around it and the base of his cock and starts a quick jerking pace with the other. 

And that’s borderline toe curling. 

Spits in his hand to get himself wet and it’s perfect. Tight wet heat working over the head and a throbbing vibration working up through from the bottom.

So fucking worth it.

Tapping the button for the last setting is intense. It’s a hard vibration, the pattern stuttering and unpredictable and it’s not long before his fucking up into his fist and whining. He’s so close and if he doesn’t cum this time he’s pretty sure he’s gonna die. 

Heart beating too fast and gasping for air he tips over the edge with a choking groan. Hips working furiously, vibe buzzing, he covers himself in thick rope after rope. 

His head is still buzzing when he catches his breath. But the buzzing doesn’t go away until he looks down his cum covered self to find the little vibe shaking merrily against his blanket.

It’s loud. 

_ Like, really fucking loud. _

He scrambles for it and clicks it off and suddenly it’s eerily quiet.

_ Merle sleeps like a tank. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. _

  
  


— —

  
  


“Sorry for the late call Daryl.”

“Nah, it’s fine. ‘M used to picking his drunk ass up Rick.”

It’s almost four in the morning and he’s standing in a police station waiting to drag Merle home from the drunk tank. Must be a Tuesday.

“Normally you guys keep him till eight though, what’s up?”

Rick doesn’t meet his eye and his cheeks pink up but he shrugs and clears his throat. “Eh, nothing, really. Just uh, figured it'd be better if he went home is all.”

“He causing more trouble than normal? Don’t wanna have to deal with charges and shit.”

“Uh, no. No trouble really, not exactly. Just, ya’ might wanna bring him home. Let him sleep off whatever he’s going through.”

_ Oh great, he’s probably high as a kite. _

“The hell did he take this time?”

Rick rubs at his nose and gives a half smile before mumbling a “I dunno, but whatever he’s on I might be interested myself.”

Then he’s pushing open the doors that leads down to the holding cells. 

He can hear Merle hollering already but it takes him a minute to really clue in to what he’s actually saying.

“M’ tellin’ ya’ Miiiiiiiiiichonne, he’s queer as a unicorn. The hell’s m’ ‘S’pose to do?”

There’s a snort from Michonne who’s leaning against the wall across from his cell. She’s smirking as she shrugs “Do you really have to do anything about it? Who cares.”

“Well I care Miiiiichonne. Dis’ is Georgia. Boys gonna end up in a-, in a ditch. Queer ass, faggot. How’s m’ S’pose to look after em if he’s out doing tha’ shit.”

“Pretty sure Daryl can look out for himself just fine Merle.”

Merle scoffs and wavers, unbalanced against the bars, forehead rolling against one of them. “Mmm. Well m’ is brotha’ and tha’s my job. Soon as momma was knocked. I had lookin’ out to do.”

“Fucking hell rick what shit has he been going on about?”

Rick stands with his hands on his hips looking every bit like a young boy about to be scolded. “Well, he uh, he’s been saying some thangs and  _ stuff _ .”

“Hey! Ricky! Do m’ a favour.”

“Not sure I wanna be doing you any favours Merle.”

“Look, it's really simple. You just take ya hand, mmhmm stick it out to the side, no the other side and then smack that dipshit of a brotha’! No, Rick not hard enough! Ya’ ain’t gonna smack any sense into ‘em with that pussy ass swing!”

Michonne’s snickering and grabbing the keys from her belt to let him out as Rick and Daryl step up next to her.

“Please, for everyone’s sanity take him home.”

“And bury him in the backyard? Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.” She swings the door open and Merle steps out unsteadily. 

“Plenty of shit I wish I didn’t hear either.”

_ Oh please no. As if this night couldn’t get any worse. _

“Keeping me up at the ass crack o’ dawn. Fucking vibrators and shit.” Merle’s not even talking to anyone in particular, just mumbling to himself like he tends to do when not sober but it’s plenty loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Merle, shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

“You shut the fuck up, asshole! The hell happened to the dildo? At least that was quiet!”

He grabs Merle by the arm in a valiant attempt to drag him out and pretend this is all just a horrible nightmare.

Michonne isn’t even attempting to hold in her laughter as she heads further down the hall. “Good night Dixon’s!”

Rick looks like he has the worst sunburn of his life and he’s the poor fucker that has to escort them out.

“Merle I swear to god I’m gonna kill you.”

“I’m sorta surprised you still have an asshole.”

“The fuck Merle?!” The smack he delivers to the back of his head does nothing other than throw Merle off balance which just makes their exit take even longer.

“Just sayin’. Don’t understand how tha’ fuckin’ thing fits. All bumpy and-.”

He resorts to covering Merle’s mouth with his palm in a bruising grip and half drags him outside to his truck.

“In. Just, get in. Don’t lick my fucking hand asshole!”

He slams the door behind and there’s Rick. Hands in his pockets, face flushed and glancing around like he wants to look at anything but him. 

“Sooo...”

“Ignore, everything. Fucking wipe it from your brain. Didn’t happen. Goodnight.”

He turns and goes for the driver side door. Knows he’s gotta get in before Merle does something like crawl out the drivers side cause his side is always child locked. 

“I’m uh, just thinkin’ is all. You know it’s fine if your-, was just saying that if you ain’t busy on Thursday maybe-,”

“Rick.”

“Yeah?”

“The hell ya’ askin’?”

“I’m just saying. I could bring the beer, you could bring the entertainment?” Ricks looking up at him all bashful like, which he has zero right to do considering he’s pretty sure Rick just asked him to bring his-.

“Oh for fucksakes you’ve got to be kiddin’ me. Your queer  _ and yer gonna date a pig? _ ”

Merle’s hanging out the driver side window like the drunk fool he is and honestly, fuck him.

“I’ll see ya Thursday Rick. Six okay with you?”

“Wait, Daryl no.”

“Yup. That would be just fine.”

“No stop tha’ shhhh no-, no dates.”

“See ya then Rick.”

“Daryl don’t do this to me. Think of yer brotha’.”

“See ya then.”

“Fucksakes Daryl ya’ got tha’ vibrator. Think of the vibrator. Fucking hell I don’t wanna hear you two screw.”

  
  


So maybe, just maybe, he’s gay. But it’s fine. Everything’s gonna be fine and maybe he won’t be single forever like he thought. 

  
  
  
  


_ Honestly, who the hell did he think he was fooling? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk, I just wanted to get Rick in on the action. Plus this is just too much fun to write.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is Unbetaed. If you made it this far congrats, here's a cookie. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are always welcome.


End file.
